Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
It’s getting hot in here — and not just because my Bose headphones nearly caught fire. Between summer heat, rapid weight gain, and the chaos of recovery, I’m just trying to survive with giant T-shirts, Lidl air-con, and emotional support Biscoff. This is me, showing up, sweat and all.
I didn’t follow the rules. I didn’t eat 2500 a day or stop moving. But I still gained weight—fast. My period came back. My knees hurt. My thighs exploded. This isn’t pretty recovery. It’s painful, swollen, and constant. And yet, I keep walking. Even when I don’t want to.
I didn’t want sympathy, I just didn’t want to disappear again. These swollen glands might be nothing, but the peanut butter of resistance night? That was everything. A step off the rope bridge. I want to bring you with me — with balloons, and peanut butter, and something like hope.
Bartholomew Bear Junior arrived during a rough week, and brought more comfort than I expected. A tiny bear with big softness, sent when I needed it most. I’m so grateful to Jellycat for the kindness - and to Biscoff, who’s learning how to be a big brother, crumbs and all.
I’ve tried grief therapy. It didn’t work. This book - The Pretty Painful Grief Book - actually is. It doesn’t sugar-coat or preach. It just asks the right questions. Some of them hurt. Some made me cry. But they helped. This post is about how I’m using it, and why it matters.
Just a couple of Jellycat Bartholomew bears and some flowers. Come on a little fluffy walk with us.
This is the messy middle — not crisis, not triumph. Just limbo. A breath held. A rope bridge swaying in wind I can’t control. I’m scared, not failing. I’m resting. Gathering strength. One day I’ll step forward. But today, I make camp. I make tea. And I don’t go back.
He doesn’t fix my pain, and I don’t ask him to - but his love still reaches me, even in the darkest spaces. My son has been the Sun in my universe lately, shining warmth and light on days that felt impossible. I keep orbiting because his light still finds me.
I resisted for years. No Premium. No corporate sellout. Just me, my adblock, and stubborn principles - until YouTube broke my spirit at 4am with a Dutch ice cream ad in the middle of my 10-hour rain video. I cracked. I paid. I am now part of the problem. Enjoy my descent.
Burnt out from recovery, grief, and just existing, I hit a wall - and my body hit back. This is the day I didn’t plan to rest, but had to. From chaos drawers and cereal trails to wax melts and Super Salads, this was the day off I was forced to take.
Absurd Universe 